


Solo Luck

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life, light slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which Napoleon is not easily swayed by idle praise.





	Solo Luck

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt 4 of Inktober for Writers: Compliment

Napoleon was a very streetwise fellow. He knew how to handle people well—and it was a trait that, on good days, made sure that he wasn’t taken for a ride. On mischievous days, it was a trait that allowed him to take _others_ for a ride—though both his mother and grandmother had drilled into him that it was a talent only used for good; indeed, the trait had saved his life more than once.

Still, it was a trait he couldn’t help but use subconsciously at the poker table. For a long time now, he’d been attending poker nights at a pool hall near the apartment building. When Illya had gotten transferred to New York as his partner, he saw no reason to stop; in fact, he had invited Illya along several nights to play poker with him and the others. Illya almost always declined, but, one night, almost a year later, he decided to take him up on it now that he and Napoleon had started a relationship.

The other boys sensed the fresh meat the moment Illya walked in; after their usual greetings and glowing praise of Napoleon, they all stared at Illya like sharks at a bait ball.

Napoleon was no fool.

“Gentlemen,” he said to the other players. “Mr. Kuryakin here is to learn, but I am here to take no prisoners. Don’t let yourselves get distracted, hmm?”

The other players merely resumed their usual buttering up of Napoleon as they played, heaping praise as he won round after round. He spared no one, not even Illya.

“This is why I never took you up on your offer before,” Illya intoned. “Gentlemen, I am finished—my frugality forbids me to wager anymore. I shall amuse myself at the bar.” 

The others kept playing—and Napoleon kept winning, even after they tried to throw him off with drinks.

“Alright, Solo, alright,” one of them said. “I dunno why we bother trying to outplay you. So how’s about we join forces?”

“Join forces?” Napoleon repeated.

“Yeah, yeah,” a second said. “Atlantic City next weekend, Solo—we can take it by storm and pool in all our winnings! We’re talking high-end parties over there, too; you’ll fit right in with all of those high-class jerks!”

Napoleon chuckled.

“As tempting as your offer is, Gentlemen, I think you can do quite well without me; I have other commitments.”

They tried to coax and wheedle him, but Napoleon insisted, and he left with Illya.

“You would have had a great time at Atlantic City,” Illya said. “And we are not scheduled to work next weekend.”

“And I’d rather spend that weekend with someone who genuinely appreciates me for who I am, and not as a money-making machine,” Napoleon said. “Popularity is a double-edged sword, and it comes with a lot of insincere people trying to flatter me. …And that’s why I appreciate you, Illya; you don’t just tell me the things I want to hear—you tell me what I need to hear. …And I also know that you don’t just think of me as another pretty face.”

“Of course not!” Illya exclaimed, unable to grasp the notion of someone being so shallow. “Napoleon, my love for you is sincere!”

“Oh, and I know that,” Napoleon assured him. “And I appreciate it. And that’s why the ‘other commitments’ I have next week all include you.”

“And I look forward to it,” Illya said, blushing slightly.

Napoleon may be blessed with luck, but as they walked home, Illya admitted that he was feeling even more lucky than his partner.


End file.
